Of Riddles and HalfFinished Sentences
by BarcodeIII
Summary: On a hot summer's day in Little Whinging, Piers Polkiss, Dudley's right hand man, has an unexpected meeting with a fifteen-year-old Harry Potter. For the first time, he doesn't know what to think. Set between GoF and OotP.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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><p>The high wooden fence on one side of the pavement shielded most of the hot summer sun from Pier's Polkiss's face as he cycled along the road. The bike was brand new, the latest model, and he was fantasising about the jealous looks he would get from Dudley and the others in the gang. Absorbed in his imaginings, he swerved enthusiastically around a corner – and crashed straight into someone, knocking them to the floor.<p>

He slammed the brakes on, panicking for a moment over whether to run for it or to stay and help. But to his relief, he had knocked to the pavement neither a helpless old lady nor a little child, but a teenage boy, who was already staggering to his feet.

"You alright?" he asked as the boy held a hand to his ribs.

"Yeah. No thanks to you. Just got the wind knocked out of me."

The boy straightened up and glared at Piers. He had dark hair, green eyes, and a lightning scar on his forehead.

Harry Potter.

Piers hadn't spoken to him since the last day of primary school, had only caught glimpses of him walking around the streets or working in the Dursley's back garden. He was taller now, maybe taller even than Piers, although that wasn't hard. And – sad. He looked sad. His skin was chalky pale and there were circles under his eyes. But more than that, he looked older, and more serious. Grown-up.

"You look different." He blurted out.

The smile Potter gave him was pained and grave. "You look exactly the same."

"Taller though, I hope." He joked. "But even you've outgrown me."

Potter's eyes flashed to him as though he had said something extraordinary, and this time his barely-there smile seemed more real.

"Yes." He acknowledged simply.

Piers didn't know what demon prompted him, but he heard himself speaking. "Remember in the playground, Dudley used to make me hold your arms behind your back while he and the others hit you. They would never let me have a go, they said, because I was just as scrawny and weak as you. And I always wished I would wake up tall, so that someone else would have to stand back while I hit you. So I didn't have to be anything like you." He looked away as soon as he finished speaking.

Potter didn't speak for a moment. The expression in his eyes was unreadable. "I thought you were a coward. You were too scared to do any of the dirty work yourself. I…"

He trailed off and shook his head, his eyes going distant, as though they were seeing something entirely different, as though he was having a different conversation with another person. "Power." He said, almost too soft for Piers to hear. "That's what we all crave… even me. Especially when you know what it's like to be weak. Power over others and their recognition that you are strong." He sighed. "I wish that I couldn't understand him…"

Piers had no idea what he was talking about now. He wished to be eleven again, and to be able to call him a freak and a loser before walking on without looking back. But for some reason, he couldn't do that now. He shifted uncomfortably.

"I should get going. I have to meet the others…" He gestured towards the park, but made no move to cycle on. He clenched his fingers around the handlebars.

Potter nodded once and walked on slowly. Piers turned to watch him go.

"Potter!"

Potter look backed over his shoulder at Piers. "Yes?"

"I…" He trailed off just as Potter had done and turned back so that he wasn't facing him any more. "Never mind."

He took a deep breath and cycled away as fast as he could. Riddles and half finished sentences. What more could you expect from Potter? At the next corner he slowed and looked back. The black shadow against the sun that had been Harry Potter stood and looked back at him. Then he turned the corner and was gone.


End file.
